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Donna Aiello, Christian Bemal, Tricia Concialdi, Jennifer Jay, Jeff Hicks, Dina Procenti, 
Mark Schillinger, Lena Vigna 

In order to get a selection published in this issue, four of the above had to vote for acceptance. 
For the award winners, only John Stobart is responsible. 

Manuscripts or cover designs for 

WORDEATER 81 & 82 

must be submitted to John Stobart 
in room C-1069 by: 

September 25, 1992 
November 20, 1992 

Maunuscripts should be typed 
and will not be returned. 



$5 to Christian BCTnal 

$5 to Jeff Hicks 

$5 to Heather Morrissey 

$5 to Kevin Olchawa 

$5 to Dave Tieman 

$5 to Jonathan Wolff 


$5 to Justin Gale 
$5 to Amy Guertin 
$5 to Derrick Hasseit 
$5 to Ryan Seeley 

Cover Design 

$20 to Shellie Smith 

Next Deadlines: 


September 25, 1992 
November 20, 1992 

All copyrights are retained by the authors, and materials will not be reprinted 
without their permission. 


1 Summer Time -Diane Drick 

1 The One I Love To Hate To Love -Kevin Olchawa 

1 S tarving Environment -David Tieman 

1 I Turned the Comer and Saw IL -Tricia Concialdi 

1 Rain -Diane Drick 

2 Like Father, Unlike Son -Justin Gale 

3 Reprieve -Dimitra Barnard 

3 Late for Class -Christian Bemal 

3 Eternity -Kevin Olchawa 

4 Tracy's Favorie Martyr -Steev Custer 
4 Think Upon This - Derrick Hassert 

4 I Wrote My Words -Steev Custer 

4 Spirit Shake -Christian Bemal 

4 Let me undress you -Laura Offrink 

4 I Stand -Janine Passehl 

5 Lemon -Jeff Hicks 
5 She -DonicaRampa 

5 Oh, So Strange. Oh, So Clear. -Ryan Seeley 

6 Hunter of Lavender -David Tieman 

6 Gangland Suggestion -Jonathan Wolff 

6 She Held Me -Kevin Olchawa 

6 Excuseless -Jameson Turner 

6 Upper Peninsula -Heather Morrissey 

7 He's Not the Keeping Kind -DonicaRampa 
7 He Was -Christian Bemal 

7 Tom Spring Dress - Gale Stewart 

8 Lost in Oblivion -Laura Offrink 

9 A Symbiotic Relationship -Jeff Hicks 
9 Politically Correct -Kevin Olchawa 

9 Inkblot -David Tieman 

9 Pleasure -Heather Morrissey 

9 Still Tornados -Kevin Olchawa 

9 Let's Not Spend This Day -Tricia Concialdi 

9 Distant HammCTS -Jonathan Wolff 

10 I Remember So Much -AmyGuertin 
10 Take My Hand -Derrick Hassert 

10 Oral Acupuncture -Christian Bemal 

11 Thoughts of You -Janine Passehl 

II Crime -DonicaRampa 

III Would Do It Once -Kevin Olchawa 
11 The Rose Bud - Dimitra Bamard 

11 Hot Lips -Laura Offrink 

11 Rocking Chair Rheumatism -David Tieman 

12 Stiff Embankments -Jonathan Wolff 
12 Mask -Heather Mossissey 

12 Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah -Tricia Concialdi 

12 Mystical Monday -David Tieman 

13 The Hunters -Mike Oesterle 

14 With Tears -Christiian Bemal 

15 Leave Me Be -Janine Passehl 

15 "What are you starving for?" - Steev Custer 
15 Bridging the Gap -Laura Offrink 

15 Waterfall -Jonathan Wolff 

15 Shadows -Kevin Olchawa 

16 Won Mourning Beyond Ewe -Christian Bemal 

16 ... and the Poems Became SongsToday -David Tieman 

16 They is Friends -Christian Bemal 

16 As I Look In Your Eyes - Laura Offrink 

17 Ridiculed and Scomed -Jonathan Wolff 
17 You Say You Love Me -Jeff Hicks 

17 RN -DonicaRampa 

18 Overheard in a Cornfield - Ann Collett 
20 Cool Off -David Tieman 

20 I've Seen Her Moan -Christian Bemal 
20 Take - Kevin Olchawa 
20 I Wait with Hope -Kevin Olchawa 
20 As I Look Around -Laura Offrink 

20 Speak Without a Thought to -Jonathan Wolff 

21 Melvin's Eyelids -Steev Custer 

21 Far Away Friend -Christian Bemal 
21 Implant Dressing -Christian Bemal 

21 Bitten by the Snake -David Tieman 

22 Blowing Harder and Harder -Laura Offrink 
22 My Leg -AmyGuertin 

22 Sweet Lute -David Tieman 

22 Just for You, My Sweet -Derrick Hassert 

23 Pain -Janine Passehl 

23 Let's Build Something -Jonathan Wolff 
23 Sadness -Kevin Olchawa 

23 I Am Not a Demanding Person -Tricia Concialdi 

24 A Ghost Story -Kevin Olchawa 
24 Sleep Now -Christian Bemal 

24 The Covers Enfold Me -Laura Offrink 

24 Uninspired -Steev Custer 

25 As I Drank with the Albatross -Jeff Hicks 
25 Transfusion -Heather Morrissey 

25 Inspiration -Jonathan Wolf f 

26 Modem Gaze Blazing -David Tieman 
26 Somebody, Please,Listen -AmyGuertin 

26 I Stand with My Toes in the Sand -Tricia Concialdi 

26 Mother of All -Christian Bemal 

27 PuEmitDnoces -Christian Bemal 
27 Green and Red -David Tieman 
27 An Artist -Kevin Olchawa 

27 Mostiy for Julian -Steev Custer 

28 Scum Love -Jeff Hicks 

28 Trite Meanderings -Jonathan Wolf f 

28 In a Way -Kevin Olchawa 

28 Tribe of Insolence -David Tieman 


Diane Drick 


David Tieman 

Neighbors out washing their cars 
Teenagers mowing lawns 

Driving with the top down 
Eating ice cream cones 

Swimming at the beach 
Getting sunburned 

Cook-outs in the patio 
I wish it would never end. 


Kevin Olchawa 

The one I love to hate to love 

stands staring at me nakedly 


Spiraling images swell in the pit of my stomach 






oh, that fire 

It hurts my head 

Kaleidoscope images mesh and mingle in my mind 

When it felt so good- 
it felt like hell 

When it felt like hell- 
it felt so good 

My brain, 

it knows what to tell 

My heart . . . 

it has a soul to sell 

Ripped in two I falter 

Hct commanding stare knows- 

exacdy the string to dangle 

My sense is strong- 

but my desire is devastating 
it stops me from hesitating 

Fw tonight I sleep in Hell- 

wiih the one I love- 
to hate- 
to love 

Starving environment 


Dying amongst mirages of twinkle Supermen. 

Stuffing anorexia. 

Ignoring bulimia. 


Tricia Concialdi 

I turned the comer and saw it 


I could smell the fresh blood. 

Red everywhere. 

He tried to get up when he noticed me. 

Too weak. 

I didn't move. 

Frozen with a mixture of repulsion and fear. 

I wanted to help, 

but I just couldn't 

"Please . . . " 

He gurgled up at me. 

I began to reach out my hand, 

and then pulled it back 

when I realized he had nothing to grab it with. 

He looked up at me 

with those two big holes, 

pleading with me. 

Then he began to convulse 

and blood spurted out of his mouth, 

and landed on my dress. 

He was still. 

I turn to leave, maybe to get help 
and feel a hand on my shoulder- 
I whirl around. 
Satan takes my hand 
and welcomes me to Hell. 


Diane Drick 

Pattoing down my windowpane 
Waking me up 

Then lulling me back to sleep 

with its steady rhythm 
Making me want to stay in bed 

all morning 
And listen to its genUe rhythm. 


Justin Gale 

"Ta-da," Mark opened the door, and flicked on the 
light, showing his new lady friend the room. "Come in please, 
just for a minute. I need to get a couple of things, and then we 
can go." He extended his hand. 

The woman looked at him and smiled,"Sure, Mark, 
but let's hurry. I don't want to miss the show." She smiled and 
leaned against the doorway. A spiral of amber hair fell along 
her slender face. Raising the glass she had kept from down- 
stairs, she said, "I think I need a refill." 

"Don't worry. I have some in the room." Mark 
assisted her into his room, and closed the door. 

"Wow," said the woman as she looked around, "it's 
kind of big for one person." 

"Yes, it's a deluxe. There was a mix-up with my 
reservations; so I get the extra space for free." Maik stared at 
the perfect figure in front of him. The back of her short skirt 
revealed long, smooth legs, wrapped in cream colored hosiery. 

"Mark?" said the woman as she turned around. 

"Yes, Star," he replied politely. 

"I think 111 use the bathroom while you get whateer 
you're getting." 

"No problem. Remember though, don't take too 

"Ok." Star giggled as she set her glass down on the 
dresser and made her way into the bathroom. 

Mark took a deep breath to calm his nerves and 
moved to the mirror over the dresser. He straightened his tie 
and retucked his button down shirt Leaning closer, he covered 
his face with his warm, sweaty hands, and breathed deep once 
more. He looked at his face and considered how handsome he 
was compared to other men. He saw a man with a square jaw, 
an oversized nose, and dark, curly hair all thanks to Italian 

He touched his face, feeling all that made him 
different and unique, all the while staring into his large, dark 
eyes. He brushed across his right cheek and stopped, fingering 
the jagged ridge, the soft, pink skin that forever marred his 
complexion. Trembling, he thought of the bastard that marked 
him, his father. 

Out of the comer of Mark's eye, something moved in 
the mirror. His deep thoughts vanished while his head swung 
right to spot the intruder. He slapped Star's drinking glass to 
the floor, spilling the partially melted ice but not breaking the 
glass. A distant laughter filtered around the room, yet Mark 
saw nothing. 

The bathroom door opened and Star stepped ouL She 
regarded Mark strangely. "What's wrong?" 

Mark saw the beautiful woman and instantly calmed 
down. "I . . a . . a . Jaiocked over your glass, that's all." He 
smiled and bent over. Picking it up, he placed it back on the 

"Oh," she sighed, "that's fine I think Tve had loo 
much to drink anyway." She slumped down on the edge of the 

"No, no," said Mark, completely regaining his 
composure. "1 have a complimentary bottle of champagne in 
the fridge that needs drinking. Come on, the night is still 
young." Mark flew off to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle and 
two glasses. 

Upon returning, Mark found Star lying down on the 
bed. Her arms were sprawled out, and she was only slightly 

"Star, what's wrong?" Marie said, faindy grinning. 

"I think I had too much too drink." Star's voice was 
slow and slurred. "I don't think we can go to the show." 

"That's ok. Star." Marie poured a drink, and shot it 
down. "I saw it already." He poured another, and set the other 
glass and botde on the dresser. Then, he moved towards Star, 
putting his arms around her, smelling her wonderful perfume, 
centering her on the bed. To Mark, she was the most beautiful 
woman he had ever seen. Her smile, scent, skin, hair, figure, 
everything was perfect He wanted her. He loved her, and he 
wanted her to love him. 

"Star, do you love me?" Mark began to undo his belt 
with one hand, while carressing her thigh with the other hand. 

"No." She reacted to his touching trying to resist 

Mark grabbed her arm and pinned it under her knee. 
He could not understand why he needed her, but he had to have 
her. He ripped her blouse open, acting as if it were instinct that 
drove him. He opened the clasp of her bra, feeling her soft 
while breasts, and pink nipples. He smothered her with kisses, 
while chanting, "Love me, love me, love me." 

She was barely resisting, completely vulnerable. He 
pulled her pantyhose completely off. He rubbed them in his 
hands. They felt so soft and smelled so sweet He wrapped 
them around his hand and brushed it against his face. Through 
them he could not feel his scar. 

Mark looked at the helpless woman on the bed and 
anger in his mind vanished. He felt sorry for the woman. In 
his childhood and in his nightmares, he was on her side among 
the weak and helpless. In Mark's eyes she changed. Her legs 
were not slender and were lined with veins. Her figure was 
wider and shorter than he had once imagined. She was less 
beautiful yet more human. Mark realized what he was doing, 
and what he would have done, 

"Oh God, Tm sorry." 

Laughter again erupted, this time louder, more 
sinister, and directly behind him. The lights flicked off as 
Mark whirled around. He could see a dark figure near the 

"Who are you?" snapped Mark. The figure stopped 
laughing. He could hear it breathing. 

"You were doing so well, Mark." The voice was deep 
and slow, sending chills down Mark's back. "Don't stop now. 
You're about to hit a home run." 




"Who are you?" Marie thought he recognized the 
voice of the figure, but it was impossible. The voice had died 
twenty years ago. 

"You know damn well who I am." The figure smiled 
as his remaining teeth gleamed in the dull moonlight "Now go 
on and get back to your fun like a good little boy. And 
remember, I always watch you." The figure turned to leave. 

"No, father." Mark stood defiantly. He realized his 
father was the cause of the pain, and he wanted to be least like 

"What?" The figure stopped. 

"I will not rape this woman. I'm not like you." 

"What? And I thought I raised a man." The figure's 
voice was angry. "I'll finish her then. Step aside, boy." The 
figure walked towards his son, still just a black shadow. Mark 
stood his ground,. "Move away, boy, or I'll have to play with 
you like I did in the good ol' days." 

Nightmares resurfaced in Mark's memory. He 
remembered abuse, hate, and most of all, molestation. He 
stepped away to let his father pass. Then the insane laughter 
came from the shadow again. Mark clutched his head,and felt 
the scar. 

"No!" Mark cried out, grabbing the bottle on the 
dresser, and slamming it down on his father's head. The bottle 
exploded into thousands of shards. The figure reeled back in 
pain, and fell to the floor. The bastard voice slowly died 

Mark's vision spun as and he fell to the floor com- 
pletely stunned. His head throbbed with immense pain as if he 
had been struck with a hammer. Mark felt the botde neck, still 
clasped in his hand. He felt his head and brushed out shards of 

Finally, he was rid of the evil inside of him. His life 
would be his lo control. 

Mark shook his head, and regained vision. Star stood 
over him, pointing a pistol to his head. 

Hot hand was shaking as she said, "You raped me, 
didn't you?" 

"No!" Marie raised up. "Pleas..." 

The gun exploded as Mark's vision turned red, then 
black. In the distance, a deep voice sang, 
"Star light. Star bright, 
make my son the victim tonight" 

Dimitra Barnard 

Your touch is softer than the breeze that rustles the leaves and 
blows gendy through my hair. It caresses my heart and sheds 
light into the shadows where my fears Uved, drawing out the 
tears, ever so tenderly, releasing them without allowing them to 
threaten me. Silently I weep, secure in the knowledge that you 
will allow no harm to come to my soul. Gende release, a 
momentary reprieve from hidden despair. Safe in the hollow 
of your arms, sheltered by your simple love. 


Christian BCTnal 

Fleshy feely 
highlights cast in the murky water 
muddy kisses 
she's barefoot 
in my shadow 
life comes out 

with a smile 

Black fishes 

sleek cichlids 




Kevin Olchawa 

The sun shone brightly on the barren cloud 
I stood up gingerly to look around 

A bird flew by and said "Good Morning" 
Shaking my head I whispered I'm learning 

I spent the day molding the cloud like clay 
The night came and took my innocence away 

A bat flew down and perched on my shoulder 
It said, "Someday you may be bolder" 

With that I took a giant running leap 

For my soul I thought I would always keep 

I stood up gingerly to look around 

The sun only shone brightly on a barren cloud 


Steev Custer 

Down the hall and to my right, there's a door, 
but it doesn't open. 

The walls are lined with horror picture windows 
which are made from shatter-proof glass. 
Search the tiles on the floor forever, tr^ doors 
are never to be found. 

And the ladder on the left wall leads to a dime- 
sized hole on the ceiling. But I can only squeeze 
half-way through. 

And just when I thought I was trapped, I notice walls 
made of papo"; and I think I have . . . 
Yes, I do, an HB lead pencil. 
So I go to woric, scritching and scratching lines 
and lines of late night pain until finally 
there's a gap large enough to squeeze myself 

And I notice down the hall, and to my right, 
there's a door, but it doesn't open. 


Dorick Hassert 

The gains of hypocrisy 
Are few. 
But the blessings 
Of ignorance, 
And the bliss 
Of lies... 
Are eternal. 
Ponder, I pray. 
Cryptic as I may be. 


Christian Bemal 

Spirit shake 
inhaling the afternoon 
alive outsides flutter and mince 
wasps in the black blinds 

mischevious noises 

steamed up from the morning dew 

music at a far gazebo 

floating massages sent in divine sound 

rest on my chest 

and I wish we were together 


Laura Offrink 

Let me undress you 

with my eyes 

and my hands 

with my teeth 

and my tongue 
Let me get pleasure 

from the many facets 

of your imagination 
And give it back 

with my many 

erotic ideas of old 
Let them encase you 

in constant orgasm 
While I help you 

relive your wildest fantasies 


Steev Custer 

I wrote my words, and I shaded my words with a jet black 

leaded pencil. I knew if no one read them, no one could hate 

them, and so there were no more. 


Janine Passehl 

i stand 


kept company by 


naively fleeing 

a desire 


by you. 


Jeff Hicks 

Oh oval lemon 

Not perfectly round 
Swinging on a branch 
Not niaking a sound 

I reach up and pull you 
You're bumpy and smooth 
All warmed by the sun 
You're flavor to soothe 

I bring you in the house 
To make some lemonade 
To drain out your juices 
From the slice of my blade 

I put you on the table 
And go and get my blade 
But you roll off the table 
And hide as in a raid 

Oh little lemon 

Where did you go? 

Are you hiding imder the couch? 

Or cowering behind the stove? 

I look around to find you 
But only time will tell 
For when you start rotting 
I'll find you by your smelL 



In the mirror 

is the image of a woman 

who is strong 

and unbreakable. 
A tough-minded individual 
who confronts the world 
to dissect and learn it- 
Life is her want 

Behind the image of a girl 

-a mere child- 
who waits for the world 
to unfold before her eyes 
she is firagile and innocent 
Love is her want 


Ryan Seeley 

Oh fretted harmonica, don't sing so blue 
Just shut up 

Oh fiendish haip, don't sing so silently 
Just leave 

With gende, lilting melodies entwined in wraths of harsh 


Swing swifdy between the bars 

And slip into forever 

Forever a canticle of caress 

I slide my body next to yours 

I writhe and pitch unable to twitch 

My nose, and bring magic to the song of our love 

With hollow lungs that sing no more 

I still must praise you, though you leave me alone 

While you (voicelessly morose) sing to her 
Of her, with her, about her 
And let me lie in my grave 

"Wait for me!" you chime to me 

Like an evil xylophone 

(You beat me on the head in jest?) 

"Wait for you?" say I 

As I begin to cry 

All the sad songs away 

But I wait 

And I sing to myself 

Of love, of hate, of wanting you; my mate 

And still your duet is with her 

My God (ha-ha) 

I think of our duet 

Me so strong, for you I long 

And the tune vanishes away 



David Tieman 

Kevin Olchawa 

Hunter of lavender 

Pierce the flesh 

Of colors 

Beyond our imagination 

Clench your fists 

At the repulsion 

Of the dying squeal 

Smear the hunt 


On your mouth-watering canvas 

She held me 

hold me she said 

She touched my face 

touch me she said 

She kissed me 

kiss me she said 

She lay down 

Lie down with me she said 

She made love to me 

now leave me she said 

He will be here soon. 


Jonathan Wolff 

Delinquent urban art work 

repulsive say some 

salvation say others 
The golden age of style 
The American way of death 
New etiquette 

in old cities 
The aspirin wars 
Got your gun? 

Courtship of stupidity 
Eggshell security 
Safety last 

every man his way 
Consuming passions 
Failed language development 
Night battles. 

Useless law 
Urban education 
Diverted dreams 
Wasted deadend term 
Old west relived 

draw and drop 'em 
Good to eat 

might as well not waste meat 
Urban taste treat. 


Jameson Turner 

You, I pass you every week 
I know you know Td like to speak 
But what? What topic could I share? 
What bit of knowledge, do I dare 
Address you so informally? 
What if you're a lot like me? 
Bored, and wondering who will be 
Your savior from this friendless. 
Apathetic mental trap? 
But yet again I find myself excuseless 
Nothing, everything to say to you 
As you walk by 


Heather Morrissey 

Like a lonely wildflower 

I wait 

In the midst 

Of a forest of giant, motionless white bark trees 

For the sun 

For the spring 

To enter my roots and flow 

Inside me 

Giving me life anf unfolding 

My petals 

Exposing my true beautiful 




Donica Rampa 

I know what love is, little girl 
thats why I set him free- 
Not because he loves you best 
and wants no more of me. 

You cannot capture wind 
and hold it for your own 
a firee spirit will wander 
until its found a home. 

Don't hang on 

He'll nevCT stay 

You'll only ground his flight 

Then one day, you'll turn away 

he'll be off into the night 

A stubborn mule 

is a stupid fool 

You're going to take the fall 

Trust me child, I know him well 

He's not the keeping kind. 


Christian Bemal 

He was 


and bouncy 

why not 

there was nothing 


to do 

sitting on the vines 
watching the animals 
behind glass 


he flew away 


Gale Stewart 

When Francis opened her eyes, she remembered the 
hospital. Like all the rooms in the hospital, hers was the same 
depressing tone of gray. To her, it was a cold and forbidding 
place. Not well suited for her sickly body. She would much 
rather spend her final days on her farm, walking among rows 
of high com. But after eighty-five years of constant beating, 
her heart was tired, and her short legs could no longer walk- 
She was trapped in this gray room in the E ward of the small, 
community hospital. Alone, with only vague memories of hCT 
daughter, Virginia, doomed for a lifetime within similar gray 

When Francis's mind was clear, she thought of her 
child, and how she cared for her who would always be an 
infant inside. Francis thought that someday Virginia would 
grow up, and they would talk and love like a perfect mother 
and daughter. But that was before the two men in the car took 
her away. 

A knock at the door startled Francis, and before she 
could call to answer, the door opened. She felt a warm surprise 
when she realized the doctor had come early. She liked the 
doctor. He was a kind, young man who shed happiness on her 
dreary disposition. 

"Hello, Mrs. Wallen," said the doctor in a cheery 
voice. "How are you today?" The man picked up a clipboard 
from the foot of her bed and took out a pen from his white 

"Same, Doc," replied Francis with a half-hearted 

The doctor smiled back, and came around the side of 
the bed to take her blood pressure. 

As Francis looked up at the doctor, a memory 
reopened. "You know, you remind me of someone." 



Tatrick who?" 

"Patrick, my son." 

"Oh, what's he do for a living? I s he a doctor? 

Francis did not answer, but just lay thwe. The 
memory had closed. "Are you all right, Mrs. Wallen?" said 
the doctor. 

"Same, Doc," replied Francis, oblivious to their 

The doctor finished the test, and returned to his 
clipboard. "I t says here that you're scheduled for visitors 


"It doesn't say." The doctor put his clipboard back 
"Well, rd better get going. Other patients to see, you 


"I wouldn't want to hold you up.' 
"Good day, Mrs. Wallen." 


Francis watched the doctor exit and the room returned 
to its dull gray. She thought about him awhile, but could not 
remember what had transpired. She liked the doctor, though. 

During the rest of the morning Francis slept Later 
she was checked by nurses, but soon Francis forgot 

She lay looking through the small window. She 
could only see the sky. Clouds had moved in, and the window 
looked as if it was not a window at all, but a continuation of the 
gray walls that surrounded her on all sides. 

She closed her eyes and thought of the farm. The 
gray skies of early spring only accentuated the green of the 
new, sprouting grass. The hired men were working hard in the 
field off in the distance, planting seeds of com and bean She 
looked at her two gigantic red bams, and thought they needed 
repainting this summer. The white house, her and Virginia's, 
also needed retouching. The strong smell of fertilizer in the air 
was the sign of the beginning of the harvest 

Then the sun came out, and Francis was alive. She 
tumed and saw Virginia, playing in the mud with her new 
spring dress. It was half tom, revealing her chest From a 
distance, Francis saw a woman, an object of beauty that would 
please any man. But as Francis came closer she saw her 
lifeless eyes, the alien quality that made her seem unattractive. 

The sun went back behind the clouds. "Come on, 
darling," said Francis as she bent down to pick up her over 
grown child. She fixed her dress, and the two started back 
towards the big, while house. Then, Francis noticed a black 
car pulling into the driveway, and she held Virginia tighter. 

The car stopped and the two men stepped out One 
was tall and had a crooked smile, the other had a solemn 
expression and looked at the ground. Both were wearing dark 
suits. "Mrs. Wallen?" asked the man with the crooked smile. 

"Yes?" Francis said hoarsely. 

"We've come for Virginia." 

Francis held Virginia, bowing her head on her 
daughter's shoulder. She felt the soft cloth of the spring dress, 
soaking up Francis's tears. 

"Are you all right. Dear?" Francis thought it was 
Virginia, and shot up. "Careful, Mrs. Wallen. Everything's 
going to be okay." A large , comforting nurse was sitting by 
her bedside, softly rubbing her bony shoulder. "It was just a 

"Oh," Francis sighed,"rm fine." 

"Are you sure?" 


"Good, because you have visitors." The nurse patted 
Francis, and got up. "They're in the lobby. I'll get them." She 
smiled and left, leaving the door open. 

Down the hall, Francis saw the nurse point in her 
direction. Immediately behind her were the two men. The 
ones who took Virginia away. Francis felt the pain in her 
chest as her heart pumped vigorously. Breaths were short, and 
she was shaking. As the men came closer she saw the ones 
crooked smile and the other looked at the tile floor. Francis 
started to mumble incoherently. 


The two reached the door, and the one with the smile 
said,"May we come in, sweet child? We feel your pain." 

Francis could barely speak. "No." 

"But please, dear. You are past your time." 

"No," said Francis more defiantly. 

The two men moved aside, and the nice doctor came 
through. He smiled like he always did, and took off his white 
jacket To Francis the doctor seemed younger. Under his 
jacket he wore a tie-die shirt and dirty, flared jeans. 

A memory lit, and burned like a flare in Francis's frail 
mind. She said, 'Tatrick, you died in those awful clothes." 

"Mother, I went down fighting social injustice in 
these. I'm pjroud of them." 

Francis smiled. "Same old Patrick, huh." 

"Yes mother." 

"I don't want to die, Patrick." 

"I know. Mom, but the men are right Your life has 

"I want a family again. The farm-" 

"Trust me everything will be alright" 

"Me trust you, after what you put in your body!" 

'Tlease." Patrick held out his hand. 

She did the same, and together they walked through 
the two men and out of the dull, gray room. 

Patrick said, "Virginia is waiting." Somehow Francis 

"Did you fix her dress? It was her favorite." 

"Yes, Mom. How in the world did you remember 

"I don't know," said Francis, holding her son tight "I 
remember everything." 

The two men, now finished, spread their feathered 
wings and took the quick way to Heaven. 


Laura Of&ink 

Lost in oblivion 
Pushed to the edge 

Rocking back and forth 
On the final point of no return 
Yet pushing back 
An affair with the unknown 


Jeff Hicks 

A symbiotic relationship 

Creating a communication upheaval 
between two minds 

both focused in the same direction 

as if it were a mental orchestra 

with both of us playing lead parts 

and our memories being the background music 


Kevin Olchawa 

Waiting day after day 

for the prize at the bottom of the cereal box 


to find my values in a pUe of dirty socks 

Give me my parole 

from this grey prison cell of a town 

where people talk of politics 

like raw meat is sold by the pound 


Heather Morrissey 

wandering down a moonlit path 

running down 

don't step on the glass 

life may be short, pleasure is sweet 

don't miss a thing 

take my hand 
feel my heart beat 


Kevin Olchawa 

still tornados 
rip the cloths 
of faded memories 
pleading upon knees 
to be brought 
to the dawn 
of my mind 
although I pine 
building papo" walls 
to block the pawns 
my forgotten past 
Misery's task 
bring on the cold fire 
divinity's sign 


Tricia Concialdi 

Let's not spend this day 

like every other holiday. 

It is the same. 

Another holiday to buy things, 

to throw our money away on 

a fancy dinner, 



and flowers 

And whCTe are the dinner and candy now? 


The cards arc tossed in a pile 

in the closet, 

and the flowers are dead 

Too much money wasted on material things. 


tonight we are going to stay home 

watch some television, 

talk for a while, 

and eat tacos. 


Jonathan Wolff 

Distant hammers 

rip echoing gunshots. 
Trees, in coincidental salvation 

from the fire 
Are raised in arches 

to be sealed. 
Life begins and continues 

in the new town. 
And in the mountains above 

placid paths of water 
Meandering into the valley below 

grow angry and disgusted 
Water explodes in 

tyrannical frenzy 
Raping the valley and 

quiet dwellers below. 


Amy Guertin 

I remember so much. 

Every injustice. 

I remember the YMCA 

State Gymnastics Meet 

This wasn't just any meet 

This was State! 

Eleven years old and I 

pulled fourth on vaulL 

One away from a medal. 

I wanted a State medal 

so bad. 

I think I even cried. 

But you weren't there, 

were you? 

You were the only father 

of any girl on the team 

that was not there! 

I know- 

I checked. 

But bravely, eleven years old, 

I held back tears 

and told you, 

"No big deal, it's ok." 

I often wondered where you were, 

that day, 

that unconcious turning point 

in our relationship. 

I tell myself that 

I really don't care. 

But every so often, 

a hint of hurt hovering, 

I wonder, 

what was more important to you 

than me. 


DCTrick Hassert 

I walk along my wooded path 

In the darkness of the midnight hour. 

And things that don't exist in the daylight 

Hear my steps and walk beside me. 

We have no name, but that of night. 

As the trees shed their skin 

In the chilled October air. 

No voice shall call my name. 

For I am Solitude. 

Only Darkness walks with me. 

Through Life, to Death, 

And leaves me alone with 

Fears and thoughts of both. 


Christian Bemal 

Sally sat in the chair 

Morris was masturbating 

above the bird cage 

a horse and the spider 

fought for sugar 

on the virgin lace 

of the dining table 

nobody noticed the 

Lv. was god yet 

and Lee came running 

from the kitchen 

with hot spice pie 

pepper burned the ceiling 

Mother and Father 

were hiding in the bedroom 

eating scraps of fat 

while their Siamese child 

squealed in hunger 

glinting his nocturnal 

eye in the sparse light of his crib 

Pam and Al were growing 

under the stairs 

naughty little touchings 

bestilled by man 

I had just woke up 

the nurse brought me head 

David cackled hymns 

and sermons of political 

disgust and distrust 

this morning tea was green 

Alice missed me 

and Simon nevw said 

so Martin jumped 

in the cold park 

at night with his 

genitals flapping 

for all to see 

how he ran I can't 

retell, but they 

missed medication 

with their evening 

meditation, those 

slow seances I 

remember as an infant 

with wet paint 

sneaking through everyone 

nostrils and Paul 

spilt alcohol under 

his soft canvas cot 

where the scorpion 

always hid because 

police beat his son 

in a violent kind of fashion 



Janine Passehl 

twisted images in the 
dark comers 
of my mind, 
lurking creatures 
my thoughts and 
picking them apart 
only thoughts 
of you remain. 

these are the 
of all 


Donica Rampa 

Little Faith meet Cheery Smile 

Hand in Hand they walked 

they metamorposed as they spoke 

(they changed the more they talked) 

Little Faith became Believer 

after not so very long 

he created Honest Love from 

Cheery Smile 

As they danced to her 

favorite song. 

They laughed together 

and were happy 

Till Reality kicked in their door 

Believer was attacked by Fear 

Mistrust held Love to the floor. 

The incident went 


And Neither remained the same 

Believer left a Coward 

And H. Love lost her name 


Kevin Olchawa 

I would do it once 
Because I know Td get away with it 
But I wouldn't be able to stop 
l^nce I started it 


Dimitra Bamard 

I am the glistening bud of a rose, 

Laden with dew drops, in gentle repose. 

I hold a simple glory, mine alone: 

How beautiful I shall be when I have grown. 

So much promise, so much living yet to do, 
I must somehow be patient, await nature's cue. 

Until then, I eagerly nurture my potential. 
The proper conditions for growth are essential. 

The rays of the sun for the warmth of my hue. 

Sparkling water for keeping it true. 

Fresh soil for the nutrients shaping each petal. 

Trust in the process allows peace to settle. 

That peace is my patience, a hard thing to hold. 
When I quiver with life which longs to unfold! 


Laura OfCrink 

Burning hotness 
Molds me to you 
As my lips become 
More yours than my own 
Butjust as our lives 
Begin to weld us 
Inseperably together 
We are torn apart 
at the seams 


David Tieman 

Rocking chair rheumatism 

A pallid pajama perception 
Of non-existent nostalgia 

A jagged juggernaut 
Destroying and demolishing 

A violent veteran 
Cemented at ch ckmate 



Jonathan Wolff 

Siff embanlanents 
Camal smells 
Frail finality 



'Take me to where 

your life occurs," 

she slurs. 
Stirring primal, 
She's now 
And she knows- - 

she sees. 

Stiff fingers 

frozen in fire 
Flames of 

Ships of 


Manuevering down 

the snakes 
And night-time 

lava flows. 
She comes 

in this way 
then turns 

and she goes. 


Heather Morrissey 

I am cold, I am dead to your feelings 

but you make me this way. 
I push you, I force you out of my heart 

but you make me strong enough. 
In the dark, I long and I cry out for you 

but you make me hide it 
In the light I am secure, my soul carefree 

but then I see 


Tricia Concialdi 

Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah 
The Charlie Brown TeachCT. 
I already know this. 
Concentration is fading 
Mind is searching 
Give me 
a reason 


awake . . . 
Abracadabra! You are a 

That's right, now peck the floor 
ruffle your feathers 
squawk like a chicken! 
Now, Alakazam! You are a 

There you go, shoot the tongue out 
for your dinner 
hop around the room 
make the girls scream! 
And now you are a 

Ahhh. Now that's better. 


David Tieman 

Mystical Monday 

Still riding its weekend stallion 

Enchanting the peasants 

Of the bored. Dark Ages 

When excitement 

Was Cheerios and a Coke. 



Mike Oesterle 
Chapter 1 

The bounty hunter stood perfectly still in the door- 
way, his eyes narrow slits as he stared intently at his newest 
target, who was seated quiedy on a bar stool, looking blankly 
at the remaining gulp of beer in his near empty mug. The 
target was facing away from the door so he didn't see the 
bounty hunter come in, nor did he hear the faint footsteps 
falling slowly behind him. He was too lost in his own thoughts 
to even notice his surroundings. 

This very afternoon he had stolen some money from 
Lewis. A lot of money. Enough money, he knew, to cause 
Lewis to put a contract on his head immediately. If he could 
just make it through the night he would be on the first plane out 
of New York in the morning and headed to SeatUe. No one 
would ever think to look there. No problem, he thought, I just 
have to hide out tonight and then I'll be gone. It's a big city, 
whoever he hires could never find me before morning, unless . 

"Why Greg Jaspar, what are the odds of running into 
you here, at this time of night?" came a soft and all too 
familiar voice ftx)m behind him 

"Dirk, " muttered Greg, slowly turning his bar stool 

"You know, just this morning I was saying to myself, 
I wonder what Greg's up to. I haven't talked to him in . . ." 

"Cut the crap, E>irk. I know why you're here," said 
Greg. He had turned completely around and was now staring 
up into Dirk's piercing ice blue eyes. 

"You stole some money form Lewis, right?" 

"Come on, Lewis told 'ya." 

"Just answer the question!" shouted Dirk, raising his 
voice above little more than a whisper for the first time in the 
brief conversation. 

"All right," replied Dirk, his voice back to its 
previous soft pitch. "How much?" 

"You already know how. , . " 

"How much?" 

"BuL . ." 

"How much?" 

"Two hundred and fifty thousand." 

"All right Greg my man, at least you're being honest 
You know what I plan to do, so are you coming quietly or are 
you going to go in pain?" 

'lx)ok. Dirk, I don't want any trouble, you know that 
Why don't you come with me?" 

"And betray Lewis? He gave me a home when I was 
down. He did the same for you. He's been good to us. Why 
did you take that money from him?" 

"Think about it , Dirk. I served him for five years and 
I haven't seen a dime of the money he promised me." 

"How much did he promise you?" 

"Twenty-five thousand for every hit, just like you. 
Come on, man, you know that, we used to be partners." 

"Yeah, we were," stated Diik quiedy, remembering 
the hits they did as a team. "But now you betrayed Lewis and 
he hired me to bring you in alive, and I aim to do so." 

"Come on, EHrk, you owe me, remember? I saved 
your life when we ran into problems at that hit on Richardson's 

Dirk grimaced as the memories flooded through his 
mind. It was supposed to be a routine hit on Gary Richardson, 
a drug dealing millionare who was in serious debt to Lewis and 
refused to pay it off, even after countiess threats of murder. 
Dirk and Greg had finally been sent to make good on Lewis's 
threats, but Richardson had anticipated the move and had hired 
two dozen men to surround his estate. 

The two immediately noticed the increased security 
and took extreme precaution approaching the mansion. A 
guard stationed at the back kitchen door caught a glimpse of 
movement out of the side of his right eye and quickly fired a 
shot from his rifle that caught Dirk in the right side of his chest 
The sound of the shot brought all two dozen men to the back of 
the estate and suddenly all hell broke loose. 

Greg acted quickly and grabbed Dirk and as much as 
dragged him through the bushes they were hiding in into the 
stieet behind the estate, somehow managing to climb an eight 
foot chain-link fence that marked the start of the private 
property of the estate. Outside of the fence, Greg carried Dirk 
to their hidden car, helped him in, and drove off, away from 
danger. All of this was done with bullets whizzing past their 
heads, two striking Greg, one in the lower back and another 
grazing the side of his left thigh. None of this slowed Greg 
down as his new mission had become saving his best friend's 

Dirk had felt deeply indebted to Greg and pledged 
that he would pay him back somehow. Over the years, three to 
be exact, both hitmen had forgotten about Dirk's pledge, until 

"Dirk, remember?" pressed Greg, breaking Dirk's 
thoughts,"What do ya say? If it weren't for me, you'd be dead." 

Dirk wrestied with the options. Either he went with 
Greg and betrayed Lewis, which would mean hiding out for 
virtually a lifetime as Lewis hated being lied to and would not 
rest until justice was done. However, Dirk's only true posses- 
sion was his honor, and he had pledged payback to Greg for 
saving his life. 

"All right," he said at last "111 go with you. We've 
got a long road ahead and you know it's not going to be easy." 

"No, it's not," said Greg, "but we got a head start It 
should take probably twenty-four hours ior Lewis to realize 
that we've disappeared. By then, we'll be in Seatde and already 
in hiding. B; she way, thanks." 

"Yeah, sure. We'll stay at my place tonight and go to 
the airport first thing in the morning. Now, what did you do 
with the money?" 



"It's in the trunk of my car. It's all in hundreds and 

"All right Let's go get it and then ditch your car 

"How about the garage just around the comer?" 

"That should work. One more thing; from this point 
on, Tm in charge." 

"All right. Dirk. You'e the boss." 

Greg knew that Diik was better fit to run the show 
than he way. That one fouled up hit on Richardson's mansion 
was the only time that Dirk didn't fulfill his mission. Every 
otho* mission that he had been assigned, he fulfilled almost 
immediately with no difficulties at all. Everyone around him 
respected him and was a little afraid of him. He was well over 
six feet tall and built like a rock. His long blonde hair tied back 
in a pony tail along with his piercing ice-blue colored eyes, 
gave him a menacing look that few would dare to contend 
with. But his fenocity in a fight was unparalleled. He had 
learned how to protect himself by having to grow up in the 
middle of New York City and constantly fighting for his life. 
It was especially tough on him, being white in a predominantly 
black neighborhood. 

The main reason Greg agreed with Dirk being in 
charge was that Diik was very intelligent He wasn't well- 
educated but he was extremely street smart He knew how to 
handle himself on the streets and that would help them in 
hiding from Lewis. 

"Well," said Greg, "we better get going. We have to 
leavce early tomorrow morning." 

'T^ot just yet," said Diric 


"We have witnesses." 

Greg had completetly forgotten about the other 
people in the bar, but Dirk brought them back to his attention. 
There were three other customers in the bar to Greg's left and 
the bartender behind the bar. All of them had heard their entire 

Quickly, Dirk pulled his sawed-off shotgun out of his 
trench coat, took aim at the bartender first and fired. The slug 
entered through the bartender's left eye and exploded out the 
back of his head in a mixture of blood, brains, hair, and bone. 
Without hesitation. Dirk pumped the shotgun, turned and shot 
the nearest customer in the forehead, knocking him off his bar 
stool. Dirk immediately pumped the gun again and shot the 
next customer in the side of the head as he tried to run for the 
door. When Dirk pumped up and tried to fire at the last 
customer, the gun simply clicked. He had used the three slugs 
he had left. He threw the gun to the floor and slowly walked 
toward his last victim, who was CTOuched down, trembling 
under a bar stool. 

"Please don't kill me!" he cried when he saw Dirk's 
boot land just inches from his face. 

"Get up," said Dirk, grabbing the man by his collar 
and pulling him out from under the bar stool. 

"All right," said the man, quickly getting to his feet 
Tlease let me go. I won't tell anyone, I swear." 

"I know you won't" said Dirk, bringing his right knee 
up, hitting the man hard in the stomach. The man immediately 
doubled over in pain and Dirk quickly grabbed his head with 
both arms and twisted fiercely. The man's neck snapped 
instantly and Dirk let go, dropping his limp body to the floor. 

"You enjoy that don't you." said Greg, staring shortly 
at each of the four bodies. 

"Sure do," said Dirk, picking his shotgun up off the 
floor. "Now we can go." 

Greg got up from his bar stool and walked to the door 
right behind Dirk. He turned at the door and looked one last 
time at Dirk's work and mumbled quietly under his 
breath,"Good thing he likes this so much because he's gonna' 
have a lot of it to do." 

He turned back and walked out the door quickly to 
carch up with Dirk. The two had to stay even if they were 
going to survive life on the run. They were pretty even fw the 
time being, but their adventure had only begun. 


Girisdan Banal 

With tears 

in a stately manner 




mother numb 
licking lust 
amidst the slaughter 
of rapid evolution 
harem of midnights crown 
streets of secrecy 
hungry puddles 
mirrored by the blue candles 

An organ playing 

in the pub 

summa ale smell 

warm burps 

with impotent laughter 







Janine Passehl 

just leave me be. 

i am content now 

to be alone with myself 

surrounded by 


enjoying the freedom 

to explore 

this destructive 


which has enveloped 

my entire 


my only solace 


to be left 


with thoughts of 



Steev Custer 

"What are you starving for?" she asked. I told her, and then 
she gave me a litde taste and refused me any more. 
"What are you craving for?" she asked, I then confessed. She 
gave me an even smaller taste and refused me any more. 

And I hurt, like those sentenced to spend terminally ill 
forevers, forever. 

I spin, wondering when it will stop, and I live in mushroom 
fields of punishment, savoring what little I had before torment 


Laura Ofifrink 

Bridging the g^ 
Between the waters of age 
And the moimtains of immaturity 
I struggle toward adulthood 
Yet continue to wonder 
Where teenagerhoood ends 
And adulthood begins. 


Jonathan Wolff 

A drop endures 

on the brink of the abyss 
Poised and prismed 

in the sun. 
A final moment of 

reflective calm- - 
Flashback to a 

visionary cloud 
Memories of a 

long-ago storm 
Existence in 

a river 
Trapped inside a 

lungless creature 

finding nothing 

more to teach her. 
Exhumed among 

its friends again 
To fly with 

the fish- - 


Kevin Olchawa 

Walking in the shadows of my mind 
I see a light under a locked doa* 
Knowing not to go there 
Because of the scraping on the floor 

Turning left at the crossroad 
I see a tunnel of blue haze 
Following closely to the wall 
I make my way through the maze 

Tripping, I see a faded memwy 
curled up upon the naked wood 
Bending I extend my arm to caress it 
but can't touch it if I could 

I pass through the tunnnel and slip 
in a trickling trailing stream of blood 
Rolling Standing Slipping Flopping 
I kneel wondering if there will be a flood 

Blood smeared across my face 

Not knowing which way to ask of grace 

What is my fate, will I be saved? 

Lost in the shadows I slowly lose my fail 



Christain Bemal 

It was a stiff day 

virgin sands had snowed through the forests 

silence ran blissfully 

hiding behind a birds choir 

when I turned my head 

I slinkied up the stairs 

of the hidden altar 

The sun was pleasing 

and the wind slighdy welcoming 

there I sat, in the flesh 

momentarily aroused by the grass 

parading mushrooms made me a pillow 

I was joined by a caterpillar 

and the wolf 

We talked of today 

before yestersday canve 

and watched a small show of promiscuous fairies 

I choked on my smoke 

and they laughed and they teased 

I rained just a little 

and climbed up a tree 

Night showed up 

shortly after Dusk left 

Gt's hard to get those two together) 

we began to sing 

and I feel a bit tired 

so I excused myself 

and to reality retired 


Christian BCTnal 

They is friends 
They is family 
They is fools 


and talkative 


life story 


revealed when 


first met 



and smiley 


They always frowning 




They is friends 
They is family 
They is 


Laura Offrink 


David "Ileman 

. . . and the poems became songs today 
On the basement stage. 


And tormenting 
Heavy stares 

That break the pandemonium 
Of our 3:00 a.m. coffee break 
(In which the guitars and amplifiers 
Are smashed) 
Middle fingers to the alcoholics. 

As I look in your eyes 

I see warmth 

As I touch your lips 

I see want 

As I rub your chest 

I see pleasure 

As I unzip your pants 

I see lunch 



Jonathan Wolff 

Ridiculed and scorned 

by his Mends, 
He leaves the familiars 

of his life behind. 
A visionary prophet, 

entering the smooth 
Black unknown 

highway alone. 

The elders watch him 

through the raven's eye. 
Observing and guiding 

from the sky. 
Leave the highway, 

the traveled path. 
Enter the cave; 

youth has past 

Melting logs etch 

ash into the earth 
As smoke drifts up 

from the fire's berth. 
Hot hallucination's 

Curling and weaving 

through the misL 

Drink from our cup again 

and ignore hollow hope. 
As this is where 

your life begins. 
Do not fear 

unshed tears 
For you are 

the chosen one. 
You have been prepared 

all these years 
And now the West 

devours the sun. 
A man you 

have become. 

Listen carefully: 

these are your trials 

to overcome. 
The first is ignorance; 

if you fail you 

are doomed to stupidity 

and misundastanding. 


The second is doubt 

you must believe 

while others call 

you mad. 
Th third is fear; 

this will try to crush you 

but you must persevere 

and hold close 

what you hold dear. 

Return now to your 

land and your home. 
You are enlightened 

and enlightened 
You shall stand. . . 

aware and alone. 


Jeff Hicks 

You say you love me 

and you express it 
I say I love you 

and I express it (I think) 

You say you care 

and you show it 
I say I care (I think) 

You say you want to spend your life with me 

and you mean it 
And I respond the same 

and I mean it (I think) 

But th^ again I think too much. 



You were lost and alone, 

I found you 

And healed you 

with salve from my heart 

Bandaged you with love 

and now 

on the way to recovery- 

You discharged 

yourself, and I 

am left 

with an empty 

First Aid Box 



Ann Collett 

Rouging and detasseling are two parts of a summer 
job that most kids abhor. But with the right coworkers and a 
sense of humor, it can be entertaining. The work itself is 
brainless- -walk back and forth through a cornfield, first cutting 
out com that is the wrong hybrid (rouges) and then following 
the crews of students who pull tassels from the four female 

Basically there were four groups of woricers: high 
school girls, high school studs, the little guys, and everyone 
else. The high school girls were good workers for the most 
part They were good whiners too. It was always too hot, or 
too dry, or too dusty, too far/too close to lunchtime, too close to 
quitting time, too early, too late, too cold, and so on. This was 
only when conversation lagged among them, which thankfully 
wasn't too often. 

Of all the high school girls who complained and 
worked. Heather was the most fun to listen to. If there wasn't a 
Heather-ism for the day, it was a let down. Heather was a 
space cadet She was tall, very pretty, a basketball player, and 
honor roll student and a space cadet She professed to liking 
"That one singer with red hair, you know, the really hot 
looking one" (Rick Astley was the assumption). And was 
working "So I can paint my Grandma's car. She's going to sell 
it to me real cheap, but I don't like the color. It's brown right 
now. What kind is it? It's brown. Chevrolet? It's brown. 
How many doors does it have? I don't know, it's brown. 
Hatchback? It's brown. But I don't like it brown. I want to get 
it painted that one color. It's kind of purple, but not really. 
You know, its, well, its kind of purple, but not really. Rust? 
No, that's not it Magenta, no that's too bright It's kind of 
purple, but not really. Maroon! Yeah, kind of like that , but not 
really. There's anothername for that color. Burgimdy! Yeah, 
that's it! Burgundy. You know, it's kind of purple, but not 
really." That wonderful dialogue with Heather led to the 
Heather-ism alert and immortalized Heather forever in the 
eyes of summer detasselers. The phrase was "kind of, but not 
really" . It could apply to weather- -kind of cloudy, but not 
really, kind of sunny, but not really, kind of cold, but not 
really; time- - kind of late, but not really; and any otho- place 
you could think of. Its best usage came in sarcasm, as in when 
something was definitely one way, and you "kind of , but not 
really"ed it for example, after a water fight on the bus, the bus 
was kind of wet but not really, as the water streamed out of the 
front door. The phrase actually outlasted Heather's employ- 
ment She quit after working only one summer claiming that 
flipping burgers at McDonald's for a whole summer was easio" 
than walking in a cornfield for the same money for four weeks. 
Kind of, but not really. 

Heather had other contributions in her only summer 
of detasseling, however. One day we were treated to a 
description of the "ideal date". Now Heather was a sophmore 
in high school at the time, and the emphasis is obviously on the 
cover and not the contents. 

"First he'd have green eyes, long brown hair, a 
diamond earring, and a leather jacket He'd pick me up in his 
convertible and tell my parents we were going to a movie. 
Then we'd drive to Chicago and go shopping at Water Tower. 
He'd buy me things and we'd eat at the Hard Rock Cafe and 
we'd be home by midnight so my parents would never even 
know." The town in which Heather lives is at least two hours 
form Water Tower and Hard Rock, kind of an impossible 
drive, but not really. When questioned as to the details of this . 
date, it was soon apparent that the date had no personality 
requirements whatsoever. I guess that is one of the perils of 
being a pretty, popular, high school sophmore. Looks and 
appearances are the center of reality. 

Not far from the realm of Heather was Kenton who 
was a seventh grader, with roughly more common sense than 
Heather. His favorite passage of time consisted of singing 
"There's Kathy who's lived most everywhere, from Zanzibar, to 
Beikely Square, while Patty's only seen the sights a girl can see 
fi-om Brooklyn Heights, what a crazy pair. But they're cousins, 
identical cousins don't you know, they look alike, they walk 
alike, sometimes they even talk alike, you could lose your 
mind, 'cause they're cousins, they're two of a kind." This theme 
song mania, Patty Duke Show in this example, could easily 
spread to GiUigan's Island, The Brady Bunch, or whatever 
other Nickelodeon reruns Kenton had watched the night 
before. This is an entertaining way to pass the time with little 
or no brain effort 

Kenton also had devised a plan on how to get back at 
someone you are mad at There are three stages. The first time 
they bother you, you can yell back at them. The second time, 
make a sign that says "Kick Me" and tape it on their back. And 
then, if they make you really mad, you spray paint "Elvis is 
Alive!" on their car. 

But thCTC are higher levels of intelligence that seek a 
reprise from detasseling. Recreational thinking, of a sort 
games that exercise your brain but let you keep your job in 
mind. You don't want to drift too far, ot you won't get your job 
done right John, the master of the 32 ACT, would try to solve 
all of the world's problems in one aftanoon or one cornfield, 
whichever was smaller. This led to redoing some of his rows, 
because the attention he paid to his job was minimal. 

To divert his mind and exercise our own, we created 
mind games. The first was a singing game, to put an end to 
Patty Duke Show theme song. You sing one song until you get 
to a word that is the beginning of a line to another song. Fot 
example: "Here we come , walkin' down the street 

get the funniest looks from 

everyone we meet . ." 
"Meet me in St Louis, Louis. . . " 
"Louie, Louie, oh yeah, 

I think I love you so. . . " 
"Sew, a needle pulling thread. 

La, a note to follow sew. . . " 



"So long, we sure had a good time. . . " 

"Time for me to fly. . . " 

and so on. If you got stuck, you completed the last song, 

andstarted over with a new song. This would hopefully lead to 

a new train of song lines It is harder that it first appears, and 

worics better with more people playing. During good sessions, 

it got so tht the first one to fdl in the line had the line we sang. 

The other game was originated by the thinking guru 
himself, John. One day , out of the blue, he asks, "Have you 
ever seen an Ethiopian tangerine?" He got some funny looks, 
but then when he pointed out that he had just used Ethiopia in a 
sentence, we decided to see how many African and Middle 
Eastern countries we could use in sentences on normal 
conversation. As a sampling: 

You can't run any faster, can ya? Kenya! 

At evCTy school dance, I can rock and roll all night 

I was late this morning, so I ran to catch up. Iran! 

Hey, that cashier's wrong! He gypped me 30 cents. 

What did you have for breakfast?" OJ and cereal. 

If you were in the Mediterranean, you would have, to 
the north, Europe, and to the south, Africa. South Africa! 

There was this Tennessee mountain family who had a 
huge tree in their yard. One summer it blew over in a storm. 
They had to get rid of the stump. They tried chopping, sawing, 
digging, burning, but it wouldn't budge. Finally one of their 
cousins suggested using the mule to pull while the men pushed 
from the other side. They thought about it and the Pa said, 
"Well, we have tried everything else, let's all try it Jimbo's 
way." Zimbabwe! 

Is that artificial whipping cream" No, ma'am. It's real 
as can be. Israel! 

Mom, can I take your car? I know that car is hers, but 
I'm mad at Dad's car. Madagascar! 

Do you remember our old babysittCT? Her name was 
,um,Libby! Libbywhat? Libby, um, Libby ah, Libby er, 
LibbyJelik! Libya! 

Mmmm, I'll always love ice cream. Malawi! 

And so on. Mr. Foster, the boss, was amazed by this 
game. He's a high school history teacher who leads rouging 
and detasseling crews over the summer. He couldn't believe 
that students would actually want to think and pursue knowl- 
edge over the summer like that He was impressed, and 
actually contributed Zimbabwe to the African counry hunt 

Mr. Foster himself was another source of quotations 
and amusement His mother-in-law baby sat for his children 
during the day, and they would ride down with the crew and 
then get dropped off at their Grandma's house. One day there 
was a difference in opinion with his mother-in-law regarding 
the children. When he finally reappeared in the field, he said to 
the boys, "When you find that wonderful girl you want to 
many, (continued) 

before you even ask her, make sure her mother id dead!" This 
is apparently the best way to avoid differences in opinion. He 
even tried to contribute a thinking game to our repetoire. One 
day, John was moving raher slowly, and looking confused. 
Mr. Foster told him, "John, let's get moving there. You know 
what to do, don't you, or did you just fall off the potato truck? 
No, how IxDut just fell off the turnip truck? Do you like it? 
Just fell off the turnip truck. I just made that up." From there, 
it progressed. "C'mon guys, let's get the show on the road. 
Hey! The show on the road. Do you like it? I just made that 

"Wait wait let the kids get going first Don't put the 
cart before the horse. Hey- -the cart before the horse. Do you 
like it? I just made that up." 

So these are snippets of conversations and thoughts 
you can overhear in a cornfield. It is an experience you can 
learn from, or not You can exercise your mind, or let it get 
stagnant and stale. Heather and her friends didn't return the 
next year, and told all of their friends not to apply for the job. 
It was too hard for them apparently. Heather quit cross country 
and became a football cheerleader the next fall. In the 
detasseling circles, the decision was attributed to brain atrophy. 

Kenton came back, and even tried rouging the next 
summCT. It is faster walking, though, and more of it and 
Kenton didn't last the whole time He did make an encore 
appearance in the detasseling crews, however. Being a 
freshaman had somehow affected him, though, and he spent 
more time trying to impress Jennifer than singing Patty Duke's 
theme song. From that aspect the change wasn't all bad. 

Mr. Forster is still detasseling, and teaching history. 
He detassels to make extra money for himself over the 
summer, and creates jobs for a number of high school and 
junior high school students in the area He still has a mother- 
in-law, too. 

There will always be the Heathers and the Kentons to 
create the woricers in a detasseling crew. They come and go. 
But the thinkers, those who dare to be different and challenge 
themselves, they might not return. 

The thinking group, (John, Karl, Jane and Ann), have 
gone their separate ways, although they still get together from 
time to time and pull out the encyclopedias from time to time 
to practice. John applies his talents to the physics and com- 
putCT departments at North Park College, and is hoping to 
intern at U of Va. next summer, so he won't be eating any 
Ethiopian tangerines. Jane is practicing on her kindergarten 
students and her frosh-soph girls basketball team, who 
understand a little better. She might be back to continue the 
tradition. Karl will graduate from high school this year and 
return to be the number one sidekick for Mr. Forster. And 
Ann, well, I still play those same thinking games, but somehow 
they just don't have the same effect as they did that summer in 
the cornfield. 



David Tieman 

Into the blood 

One must dive 

Treading the waters of suicide 

Swimming blind 

Amongst the H.I.V. 

Pinch your nose. 

Exhale everything. 

And sink to the bottom 

Of the unsupervised pool 

Thick with disease. 


Christain Bemal 

She's the skin of a corpse 

and a pale mane 

silent are her lips (yet) 

and i expect vapor when she speaks 

I've met her eyes 

icing by 

I watch for them in the corridor 

on my early days 

But it's only a dream 
a day dream at most 
a quick vision of ecstasy 
one in a thousand 


Kevin Olchawa 

Remember that moon-lit night 
walking in the grass 
looking toward the sky 
you were so sad 
you told me all your problems 
lying side by side 

Remember that Saturday afternoon 
we lay on my bed and listened to tunes 
we were so happy so innocently 
pretending to fall in and out of sleep 

Remember the times Fve made you smile 
you and your mom or boyfriend had a fight 
i just talked and made you forget 
you told me i always made you feel better 

Rememeber those times when i'm far away 
I need to fmd someone to help me escape 


Tricia Concialdi 

I wait with hope. 
I pray with patience. 
I sob with sorrow. 

The lonely river grows quieter still. 

There is no gentle sun of yesterday. 

There are no children playing, no laughing, no smiles. 

No hum of cars whizzing by the cities. 

I am angry 
at him 
at her 
and them 
and you 

and me. 

There is no world, 
and it is my fault 


Laura Offrink 

As I look around 

At my well-known world 

It seems very different- 

That precious sunset 

That favorite tree 

The road I travel 

Each day to school 
They're becoming strangers. 
Road, sunset, tree 
I have seen all my life 
Beckoned me onward 
Morning, noon, night 
But as months pass of late 
A traveler Tve become 
Now I am 
The unwelcomed one 


Jonathan Wolff 

Speak without a thought to 
Hear without a mind to 
Listen without a plan to 
Make it if you can. 



Steev Custer 

Melvin's eyelids had become cinder blocks on his face. It was 
all he could do to keep them up. He hadn't slept in days. His 
course load at the Junior College had become too much. Math, 
English 102, Speech, History, Astronomy and Philosopohy 
each played their parts in depriving him of sleep. 
He rushed himself to the men's room between classes. The 
thought of sitting on the throne with no one to call his attention 
overwhelmed him. As he lowered his trousers and eased 
himself on the seat, he noticed the abundant markings on the 
walls of the stall. To his right, a cartoon of Barney Rubble 
holding an electric guitar was drawn in magic marker. "Tom 
Janek is Jimi Hendrix reborn" was inscribed below. On the 
back of the door, "Chris 'Shaggy' Fordonski was here" was 
engraved in the flaking brown decrq)it paint 
"Steev loves Tracy forever and always" was declared just 
above the paper rack in what appeared to be purple sharpie 

Melvin instandy developed insomnia. The sight of these 
feeble-minded attempts at humor and declarations of respect 
infuriated him. The basic thought of anyone defacing a poor, 
defenseless toilet-stall wall allowed him to do something he 
had never permitted himself to do. He tapped into his God- 
given supernatural powers and became. . . "The Washroom 
Warrior"! In an instant he was clad in the washroom nurtured 
Superhero on the nineties. With a toilet-paper roll dispenser 
suit of armor, and the ability to hurl atomic Charmin rolls at 
unsuspecting vandals, the Washroom Warrior was prepared to 
meet and defeat any villian. None too soon did his opportunity 
arise. From the next stall, the aroma and obnoxious squeak of 
p)ermanent maiicer invaded his senses. The Washoom Warrior 
dramatically burst from his Stall Headquarters and blasted 
through the door of the neighboring bowel-movement sanctu- 

But, for the first time in Melvin's Washroom Warrior career, he 
underestimated the enemy. This time the offender wasn't just 
some annoying frat boy. This time it was HIM. . . "Graffiti 
Man". And before our hero could unleash his atomic toilet 
paper rolls, he was launched backwards by Graffiti Man's 
permanent marker laser gun. 

He felt himself being pjropelled backwards until finally, he felt 
a mighty thud. 

Melvin raised his head to realize he had fallen asleep on the 
John again. And to make matters worse, he was 15 minutes 
late for Speech. He hiked up his drawers, gathered his books, 
and before leaving, inscribed his own words of wisdom on the 
bathroom wall: 

"Beware of the Washroom Warrior." 


Dimitra Barnard 

When I think of the love you give to me, 
So simple, undying and true. 
My fears run and hide, I know Tm free, 
I want to be cIosct to you. 

I've come to trust, I miss you so much. 
I know the miles can't keep us apart 
I need to hear your voice and feel your touch 
Though I know we're heart to heart 

I feel you out there listening. 
Dear friend, you must know it's trxie 
Even when my tears are glistening, 
I know I can dq)end on you. 


Christian Bemal 

If today were forever 
I'd be with you 
If time was aligned 

get lost with me in the garden 

expose your dreams 

perhaps we could kiss 

let's die 






David Tieman 

Bitten by the snake 

Of a self-centered male 



And without mistake. 

Banished by the king 
In my surrogate iream 
A witch-like zephyr 
Following. . , 



Laura Offiink 

Blowing harder and harder 
The wind slices into my face 
Leaving it brittle and aged 
Making me seem older 

And yet preparing me 

for my unavoidable fiiture. 


Amy Guertin 

My leg. 

No, you can't have it! 

It's mine! 

My hair. 

You're taking that, aren't you? 

In clumps. 

They warned me, 

they told me this would happen. 

I nevCT thought . . 

I nevCT believed. . . 

God, why me? 


My head is spinning. 

My stomach. . . Oh, God! 

The pain. 

The torture. 

Oh, God, why me? 

Take my leg, 

take my hair, 

ravage my body. 

But, damn you, 

you. . . will. . . not . . take. . . my. . . life! 

I will live. 




David Tieman 

Sweet lute 
Serenade me. 
Tear out the nails 
Of a crucified reality. 
And sing with the lizards 
Of Egyptian melodies 


Derrick Hassert 

He descened the stairecase like a dancer, each foot 
barely touching the steps below him. He whistled to himself as 
best he could, for it was common knowledge that his lips could 
hardly make enough noise to register to the human ear as a 
whistle, but it was music to him all the same. The spirit within 
the body was on a psychological high, induced by some logic 
that the man was sure no other would want to comprehend. 

The small and slender form of the young man entered 
the darkness of the dining room below, a darkness almost so 
severe that it missed matching the color of his suit by half a 
shade. In this absence of light a touch of pallor met with an 
identical dot of white and struck a match, revealing a face atop 
the ebony clad figure. The face smiled while a hand below lit a 
candle on the table. He moved quickly to the kitchen. 

The phone; the number, an answer; she was home. 

"Hello?" Click. All the information he needed was 
had. The smile continued as if it would not stop until the face 
it slashed was split in two. 

Thin fingers reached to an opposite wrist to check the 
time on a watch that had been broken for almost a year. The 
smile continued. "Right on schedule." 

The hand that came from the wrist with the watch 
pored the smile some wine; the lips tasted and parted to show 
small white teeth to the daikness. 


The watch again was consulted for its faulty diagno- 

"Depart, we shall Depart, we must" 

The thin figure danced its way to a refigeratw, 
opening its doOT with a gracefxil movement of one arm. Milk, 
bread, cheese, pie, eggs- - these were not the things he sought 

"Ahhh." A dozen black roses, preserved by the cold 
in a proper state of decay. 


The roses were swept up by slender fingers and 
placed with care beneath a waiting arm, while the other arm 
reached up to correct a crooked tie. When the correcting arm 
was free it proceeded to check one more item; it moved slowly 
to the left breast pocket inside the jacket, where the syringe 
rested. A tool waiting for a task, it still rested as such. The lips 
widened and blew out the candle on the table, while the smile 
continued to cut across the pale oval that was the young man's 

"Are we ready?" asked a melodious voice of the 
darkness. The darkness did not respond. "Good! Then we 
shall go!" 

The lips parted once again to whisde, and this time 
they proved to be successful in their task. An old piece of 
classical music came fcHth from within the thin fcMm, some- 
thing from Gounod. A march: a funeral march, for dancers 
made of wood, controlled by string. The funeral march of a 



Janine Passehl 


Kevin Olchawa 

this pain 

in my heart 


so sharp and 


has faded into 


i've begun to 


that i ever 


what i wouldn't 


for the 


to return 

for then at least 

i would 




Jonathan Wolff 

Let's build something- - ■ 
Let's see how sharp and 

precise comers can be 
Perfection achieved 
Let's now make three. 
One up and 
Two up and 
Three up. 
Now we are gods 

of creation. 
Out of dirt we have 

bom a nation. 

It covers 

as a storm gathers 

It swells 

like a well of rats 


It rapes my soul 
licking my brain 
feeling so cold 
laughing aloud 


It looks in my eyes 
you begged for it 
It cries 
you never learn 


I cmmple to the floor 
ripping at my ears 
inviting the roars 
with bloody tears 


Tricia Concialdi 

I am not a demanding person 

Shut up and listen! 
I don't ask too much of people. 

I don't care how busy you are! 
I do so much for people 

Get it yourself! 
I am supportive 

You're on your own! 
I am respectful 

What's this in your drawer?! 
I am sensitive 

Lose some weight! 
and I am not selfish. 

I come first! 
So please, because I love you 

I can't stand you! 
Do this one little favor 

Add it to the list! 
and stay home tonight with me. 

Get out of my house! 



Kevin Olchawa 

Some people will never believe. So maybe I heard it 
from a friend of a friend. But listening to his story gave me the 
chills. Maybe I should correct myself; it really was not a story. 
It did not really have a plot or theme or even an ending. How 
can something you cannot explain come in a neat little package 
with a red bow on top? Anyway, just sit back. . . oh, watch 
your back. . . and see what happens. 

Jason was late for school and he still had to pick up 
his girlfriend on the way. Running out the door hw grabbed his 
bag and keys and yelled bye to his mother. 

Jason was mad as he glanced at his watch. If he was 
late to school again he was going to get detentions. 

Jason pulled into his girlfriend's driveway at 8: 18 
according to the clock on his dashboard. He had a ten minute 
drive to school plus he needed to go to his locker before his 
first class which started at 8:30. Needless to say, he was 
pressed for time. As he slammed both palms on the horn he 
wondered why she was always late, especially when he was in 
a hurry. 

Impatiently tapping on the steering wheel, Jason 
glanced to his left. About two blocks down the road he saw an 
extraordinary tall man in a black suit wearing a top hat walking 
slowly toward him. Since he was in such a hurry, Jason was 
not really paying attention and the sight did not register until he 
was already looking toward the house. 

Confused, Jason looked quickly back to his left, but 
he did not see the man. It was a little foggy so the thought he 
could have imagined the man After all, it could have been 
somebody out to get the newsp^)er. 

Jason glanced at the clock on the dash. It read 8: 19. 
He screamed in frustration and threw his head back sighing 
loudly. As he lifted his head he glanced in his rear view mirror 
In the saw a strangely tall man in a black suit wearing a top hat 
walking slowly past his car. Every hair on Jason's body stood 
straight up. Curling his toes tight and squeezing his eyes shut 
he thought that there was no possible way the man could have 
been two blocks down the road one second, then right behind 
him the next second. 

Opening his eyes, Jason looked in his rear view 
minor. Nothing. Slowly he relaxed. 

The front door finally opened and Jason's girlfriend 
bounded out to the car. He glanced at the clock again. It still 
read 8: 19. As his girlfriend grabbed the door handle Jason 
looked at her. Past her, about two blocks down the road Jason 
saw a tall man in a black suit wearing a top hat walking slowly 
down the road. 

Jason's girlfriend asked him what was wrong. "You 
look like you'vejust seen a ghost," she said. 


Christian Bemal 

Sleep now 

my close one 

close as you can be 

stay close 

not far now 

not distant 



keep near 

or warm 


Stay close 

now darling 

feel leather 


Scream across a foreign earth 

scutde around 
now child 
be proud 


Laura Offrink 

The covers enfold me 
In their mauvish warmth 
I begin snuggling down 

with Pooh Bear 
As I absorb the comfort 

my blankets supply 
Together Pooh and I 
Review all that has happened today 
While we begin our silent walk 

into sleep 


Steev Custer 

Uninspired by truly uninspiring words, I wrote nothing and it 
was the best thing I never wrote. 



Jeff Hicks 

As I drank with the albatross 
And danced with the wind 
I spied a leaf dragon 
All brown and sharp finned 

He joined in our dance 

As we spun him round 'n round 

Moving up from Rio 

All the way to Puget Sound 

But the wind disappeared 
And took along the dragon 
The albatross took his drinks 
And left his empty flagon 

So I sat upon the beach 
On the coast of Puget Sound 
The waves slapped up upon my toes 
And no one was around 

But then the waves spoke to me 
And told me "Hey come swim!" 
So I ran along the waterfront 
And finally I jumped in 

"Come in and swim and frolic and play" 
The water said to me 
"Follow the current, the ebb and flow 
Out to the open sea" 

So away I swam and felt a change 
My body began to squish 
My arms pulled in, I sprouted gills 
I was turning into a fish! 

Now swimming with my pointed tail 
My red gills and my scales 
I was swimming ever deq)er 
And looking for the whales 

I quickly heard their singing 
And asked if I could go 
Join in their ceaseless melody 
That rises from below 

They said "Yes, please join us do 
But do not dive too icep 
f r if we do we cannot breathe 
And would begin an endless sleep" 


I quickly joined their chorus 
But then I dove too deep 
And began to understand 
Their neverending sleep 

"Run back to the land" 

The nautilus did say 

So I spun around, and reached up 

To the beach now where I lay 

I shuddered and I twisted 
And opened my eyes to light 
All curled up in my childhood bed 
Oh my goodness what a night! 


Heather Morrissey 

Sunlight and shadows on the 

wall of the room 

fear of the unknown, fear of the known 

smell of incense, patchouli, and wine 

red wine, so red 

like the blood dripping 

from your neck onto my lips 

to become one, each into the other 

one body, one blood 

relent, commit, transmit 

hot waves of molten passion 

burning, rushing up so fast 

fast to capture you, to tr^ your soul 

taking you into the realm of fear 

the realm of utter, complete beauty 

into the sunlight and shadows on the 

wall of the room 


Jonathan Wolff 

A vast web 

of interlocking words 
Traces back 

through centuries. 
Hereditary madness 

scurries and weaves 
Through conciousness 

seeking a new mind: 
Patiently waiting to explode 

once again with success. 



David Tieman 


Tricia Concialdi 

Modem gaze blazing. 
Promiscuous, sumptous intelligence 
Luring, seducing. 

Homy prehistoric idiocy 
Clubbing the head 
Of curiosity. 
Pulling the hair 
Of creativity. 


Amy Guertin 

What am I to do? 
Someone, please, help me. 
But no one listens, no one cares 
or they just choose not to see. 

My soul is tearing apart, 

the pain I cannot bear. 

As I hold the knife above ny heart, 

I know my end is near. 

But I hesitate for just a moment 
to see anyone care. 
Np one steps forward to stop me 
as my heart begins to tear. 

I wonder why people can't even see 
what's right before their eyes. 
They never knew, they never saw 
until the last good-byes. 

Maybe now they'll listen 
to a message so very clear, 
written in blood shed by my hands 
for the world to hear. 

I stand with my toes in the sand, 

letting the wind gently flow 

through my nakedness. 

I feel the sun gazing upon me 

and warming my every pore. 

A cool wave splashes upon me 

and soothes my body 

sending a gentle chill 

throughout me. 

I open myself 

toward the heavens 

and rise. 

a symphony of clouds 

surrounds me, 

enveloping and 

massaging my soul. 

I am playfully tumulted 

through the sky 

until the great west wind 

holds me up to the world 

and the heavens cry out 

in thunderous splendor. 

I am slowly 

descending to 


Gently and carefully 

being carried down. 

I rest on the sand, 

held by the arms of the earth. 


Christian Banal 

Daughter of the sacred gates 
Sister of the serpent song 
The princess of reptilian silk 
Heiress of the mwbid illusion 
Queen of the slow evolution 
Succubus of the carnal night 
Crimson siren of the black sea 
Goddess of the wicked procreation 
Seductress of the tempting wind 
Whore of the innocent religion 



Christian Bemal 

Her majestic majesty 

dined daintily 


on edible erotica 


clouded my world 

disease dwelled 

in my 

putrid pores 


terrible tingling 

under my skin 

regurgitating remnants 
green and grotesque 
about in my 

hacking hard 

on this dazed day 




my eyes 


David Tieman 

Standing proudly on the child's rock 

A prodigy. 

A king. 

And they scream hgh falsetto 

Torches in hand. 

Spitting their arrows. 

Catapulting their pubertal anger 
At the pristine 
Turned obscene. 


Kevin Olchawa 

Black circles 
of silvery onyx 

stealing the last 
crystallized breath 

the hooded shadow 
promises places 
only dreamed 
by believing children 

With proud purpose 
parading passionately 
they go 

into nothing. . . 
neither remembmng. . . 

nor knowing. . . 



the con artist 

of life 


Steev Custer 

Although she laid down to sleep hours ago, she is still awake, 
roll to side, wondering. The bed is cold widiout him, and so 
big; like walking in a dark, unfamiliar room without a clue. 
Several times she had forgotten, and reached out to touch him, 
to know the security of his presence. 
That was not to be found. 

She lay on her back, her eyes searching for the ceiling and her 
ears waiting for the sound of his breath. 
Neither came. 

Finally, she wrapped herself in her robe, and tip-toed down the 
stairs in to the even daricer daikness. She was SQ lonely. 
In the kitchen, almost to the telephone, she turned down a 
hallway to her right She q)ened the dow slowly and crept in 
with the silence of a veteran cat burglar. Then, she lay down 
on the floor of the baby's new bedroom, where she could hear 
him breathe, where she knew she could count on security, and 
where she slept for the rest of the night, until his morning cries 
awoke her. 



Jeff Hicks 

You were never my inspiration. 
In fact you depressed me 

making my thoughts into nightmares 
walking across my mind 
as if on glass 

and hoping to shatter it 
along with my dreams 
And if you touched me 

I would try not to think of it 
since your caress 
was that of sandpaper 
across my teeth 
And your eyes 
glazed over 

horn too much sleep 
being nothing 
but a stain 


Kevin Olchawa 


upon my vision 


and yow stagnant breath 

I your mildewed clothes 
would get the hell away 

Kiss me. 


Jonathan Wolff 

One day. . . 

maybe you'll show me the way 

One hour. . . 

maybe Fll give you a flower 

In all of my past 
I have never felt 
Even now. . . 

... I am left 

It saddens me 


eye in eye 

When I look to the floor 
Stumble over words 

Never believing a feeling 

It could have been 
a thousand times- 
it never was 
a thousand more 

Before and now 
It is just my part 
in every direction 
to lose my heart 

Trite meanderings 

thoughtiess caresses 
Beckonings seem by far 

the best 
Celery crunch of gravel 

muted secrets whispers. 
Anguish from the bottom 
Lightning shrieks 

"I missed her!" 
And so, 

the man awaits 
Concrete emblazoned 

wisps of grey 
Sparkling li^tiess 

loss of day. 


David Tieman 

Tribe of insolence 

Beating pounding wartime drums 

Of rebellious pestilence 

SnK>king smoldering pipes of malignity 

Polluting their identity